


Hallelujah

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e22 Posse Comitatus, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-18
Updated: 2006-10-18
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: 10 minutes after the shooting inPosse Comitatus





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Lyrics written by Leonard Cohen, sung by Jeff Buckley

well, maybe there's a god above  
but all i've ever learned from love  
was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you  
it's not a cry that you hear at night  
it's not somebody who's seen the light  
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

hallelujah

One step after another. She doesn't know where she is. Doesn't care,  
really. Some stranger in the crowd jostles against her, and with it the  
random thought "Simon would've been all over that guy, would've known who he  
was, where he was going, if he was dangerous....and then he'd yell at me for  
not watching where I was going...being out here, all alone..."  
She can't breathe, she can't think. She slumps down on the bench,  
despair pressing down on her, this endless anger and hopelessness filling  
her, and she sobbed, whispering "No...no, oh Simon no..."  
I'll never see you again. I'll never talk to you again. You'll never  
tell me to be careful, stand beside me, be mad, laugh..  
It's raining again. It's cold and wet, and nothing's ever going to  
be okay again.  
You weren't supposed to be there. You were going to come back.  
A hand touches her shoulder.  
She looks up and behind her, blinking away tears and rain, expecting  
Ron, or Toby or Josh, standing there, with meaningless words of comfort.  
It's Simon.  
Her heart makes a painful lurch and she jumps up, panicked, her fist  
clenched against her mouth, thinking I've lost it, I'm crazy, it's a  
hallucination, it's a ghost..  
It's neither.  
Simon Donovan stands in front of her, one hand raised now in a half  
calming, half pleading gesture. The other is pressed against his ribs,  
gingerly, as he winces in pain. A thought flutters through CJ's mind "...a  
bulletproof vest doesn't stop you from getting bruised or broken ribs.." but  
that's all she can think. Her ears are humming, blocking out the noise of  
the traffic, the people, the rain.  
Simon tries to smile at her.  
And she's standing against him, cradling his face between her  
fingers. There's no moment in between, she's just suddenly there. She's  
saying "Oh my god Simon oh my god," over and over, she doesn't know for how  
long, crying and laughing and gasping for breath, touching his face to make  
sure he's really here.  
"CJ," he whispers. His hand is on the back of her neck, their  
foreheads touching as he gasps "Dammit we couldn't FIND you, the  
officer's..the one that drove me over...they're still looking but.." he  
winces again, the hand on her neck tightening, and she can feel him shudder,  
breathing hard against the pain in his ribs.  
Sliding an arm around him carefully, she guides him around the bench  
so he can sit, sits next to him.  
"Simon...you're bleeding," she says, surprised at how calm her own  
voice is, looking down at the smear of red that now covers her arm.  
"Yeah," he gasps. "Think one of the bullets nicked my arm...it's not  
too bad, don't worry."  
She stares at him for a second. "Don't WORRY??" she says with an  
outraged laugh, feeling more than a little hysterical. Pulling off her wrap  
to hold against his arm, CJ looks around frantically, drawing in breath to  
call for help. Before she can, she sees two police officers running towards  
her.  
There's a lot of confusion and shouting for the next minute, and CJ  
gathers from all the noise that when Simon woke up at the crime scene he  
first called Ron, then shrugged off the paramedics and convinced one of the  
police officers to drive him back to the theatre.  
"Can't believe I let you talk me into that, buddy," the officer  
mumbles, helping CJ tie the wrap around Simon's arm, while the other officer  
radio's in the paramedics. "Dumbest thing I ever did."  
"I think I got you beat," Simon mutters through gritted teeth.  
The officer leaves to clear the area and flag down the ambulance  
when it arrives. For a moment, CJ and Simon are alone. She reaches over to  
hold his hand in both of hers, and he leans against her gratefully.  
"Jesus, it happened so fast," he pants. "Goddam stupid, didn't even  
LOOK to make sure the place was clear, then..." he takes several breaths,  
looks at her wryly. "I didn't even have time for my life to flash before my  
eyes, one second I'm making a stupid joke and the next I'm lying on the  
floor. Felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Don't know how long I was out,  
but I saw paramedics pushing past people to get inside, and some cop's on  
the phone with Ron, and the clerk's screaming at him "He's dead he's dead.."  
He squeezes her hand. "Easy mistake I guess, I sure FELT dead for a few.."  
"Oh don't don't.." She presses her lips against his head, whispering  
into his hair "You're not dead," almost to reassure herself. "I was so  
sure.."  
"Ron got a garbled report. If you'd been around two minutes  
later..." he sighs. "CJ, swear to god, the only thing I could think about in  
the patrol car was you walking around somewhere thinking I was dead."  
Something flutters from the collar of his tuxedo, to fall in his  
lap. They look down.  
A handful of white and red rose petals.  
He laughs ruefully, picking a few up and putting them in her hand.  
"I just remembered why I'd gone into that damn store in the first  
place." He looks at her, a small smile in his eyes. "Don't suppose you like  
roses?"  
She half-sobs, half laughs, swiping at her eyes with a free hand. "I  
sure USED to," she says. "I'm not gonna be able to look at 'em after tonight  
without thinking..." she stops, leaning against him, crying again.  
"Well, we'll just have to find something you like better." And he  
kisses her, slowly, carefully, his hand reaching up to touch her hair, and  
she lets the petals fall as she holds his hand again, tightly, breathing in  
the smell and taste of him, the realness and solidness and THERE-ness of him  
under her hands and against her lips.  
That would be, of course, when the paramedics showed up.

but remember when i moved in you  
and the holy dove was moving too  
and every breath we drew was hallelujah

hallelujah...


End file.
